


Deep Space

by Not_You



Series: Domesticus Inspired [3]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Domesticus, Castration, Enthusiastic Consent, Fun with Fields, Other, Slavery, Xenophilia, being nice to abused animals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-01
Updated: 2013-05-01
Packaged: 2017-12-10 02:12:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/780585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not_You/pseuds/Not_You
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The non-con warning is for overall themes of the Domesticus universe.  Everything in this story is lovely and consenting and nice.  This takes place during Freight, and contains Omega Supreme and his poor little Distillers who self-destructed in the backstory of 'Together' (http://archiveofourown.org/works/635086).  They are quite taken with Trent, and wish to shower him with mechlove.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Homo Sapiens domesticus: Freight](https://archiveofourown.org/works/651430) by [femme4jack](https://archiveofourown.org/users/femme4jack/pseuds/femme4jack), [fractalserpentine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fractalserpentine/pseuds/fractalserpentine), [HopeofDawn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HopeofDawn/pseuds/HopeofDawn), [Sakiku](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sakiku/pseuds/Sakiku). 



"What the fuck is that?"

Perceptor has become familiar enough with his humans to appreciate the wary awe in Trent's tone. He's much more active and alert now, sitting up in the opened pod and staring out at the sleek sphere coming up beside them. "That is a sparked shuttle, Trent."

"So… Like what we're riding in, but alive? Something like that big fucker up top?"

"Essentially, yes."

"Weeeiirrrdd…"

"He will be docked with this shuttle for a few days in an exchange of fuels."

"…So it'll be like a guy humping a car?"

"No. Omega Supreme has his dedicated Distillers, who can pass their refined fuel into tanks. Like… like honeybees."

"…So it's like a really huge guy hanging out by a bus while his pets jizz into the gastank?"

"…Trent, you defy understanding." He's not sure why Trent laughs, but he's happy to hear the sound. "Would you like a better view?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I would."

Perceptor carefully gathers his human up in the palm of his left lower hand, because that's the one modified to exude protometal, a Berthformer trick that has proven incredibly useful. The mod was also incredibly expensive, but watching Trent snuggle down comfortably is worth every credit. Perceptor carries him to the closest portal. It offers an excellent vantage point, and Trent stares out at Omega. The shuttle's deep space form is a mirrored ball with no apparent optics or features of any kind. And then a circle of the mirror retracts to darkness, and Distillers come swooping out. They're light, delicate things, graceful frames fanning out with panels and sails and wings, mirrored silver, shimmering gold, gleaming black, and one slender mech is actually transparent, the stars shining through him. He's a bit less massive than Seaspray, but longer.

"Holy shit."

Perceptor is beginning to grasp some of the fundamentals of the human idiom, and obscenity and absurdity are both very important. This melding of the two with the divine is generally reserved for times of extremely high processor stress, and he vents cool air onto Trent to keep him from overheating. "Gah! What the hell are you doing?"

"Trying to keep your processor from overheating."

"Well knock it off, I'm freezing!" This is an exaggeration, but Perceptor stops all the same. "Besides, wetware processors don't overheat from working too hard, just from other stuff."

This oblique reference to Trent's fever is enough to make Perceptor shudder, and he strokes the bright helm fur with the tip of one finger. Trent says nothing, but relaxes into the protometal, still staring out at Omega's Distillers. "Wow." Perceptor represses a groan, wondering why he's cursed with humans so fascinated by a frametype he normally has almost no dealings with. There's a faint bump as Omega extends his three-fingered docking arm and makes contact, but hardly enough to jar even the humans . With their Aegis safely locked in place, the Distillers sail closer through the vaccuum, the transparent one drifting out of sight below the portal and then using his pedal repulsors to pop up immediately outside it and put his glassy hands on the equally transparent surface, staring at Trent and Perceptor with soft white optics. Up close like this it's easier to see the glimmering silvery-prismatic fibers and meshes inside the clear alloys that provide the mech with an incredibly vast and sensitive sensory array. His hands are long and slender, with fewer digits than a human's, something which they seem to react better to than more. His faceplates aren't very expressive, but his field shimmers with warm and loving and curious colors.

"Can you tell what it's thinking?"

"Just that he is friendly. And curious."

_::Hail, Starshine.::_

_::To you as well, Perceptor. What a beautiful organic!::_ Perceptor can't help a jealous little flare of his field, and Starshine laughs. _::Would a Distiller seek to break a cohort? I merely said it was beautiful. I should like to know more about it.::_

 _::Of course.::_ He sends Starshine the human's tolerances, knowing that deepspace mechs like Omega and his Distillers pick up all sorts of radiation incompatible with organic life.

_::Oh. So delicate. How precious.::_

"What the hell are you guys saying to each other?"

"My apologies, Trent. This is Starshine, who has never seen a human before and is very curious about you. I was just sending him your tolerances, because he and his cohort are usually too radioactive to be around organics without either decontamination or shielding."

"…Starshine?" Trent laughs again, for completely impenetrable reasons, then yelps in alarm at the sudden appearance of another Distiller beside Starshine. The frame is essentially identical, but this one is deep, deep black, an impossible, light-absorbing shade. "Woah. What's that one called?"

_::The Hungry Mirror of the Beauty of Untold Suns::_

"Untold Suns, and he's curious as well. The whole cohort is partially coded for scientific inquiry, so you can safely assume that all of them will be curious."

"Curious, huh?"

"They will not harm you." Perceptor would never let them, and wishes Trent could feel the protectiveness in his field.


	2. Chapter 2

Miles catches sight of Omega before Trent does but in a vastly different part of the ship. He and Seaspray are sitting on their favorite perch, the high walkway that gives them a clear, though far, view of Omega approaching. He moves in a straight line, delicate and soundless as a soap bubble. "Oh, wow," Miles breathes, trying to get an idea of the scale of the thing. As near as he can tell, it must be bigger than Oceanus's current form. Seaspray says he'll be bigger when he settles down as a city, but for now it looks like the whole massive segmented body could curl up like a pangolin and fit inside the sphere.

"Omega Supreme is pretty impressive," Seaspray agrees, smiling. "He's a sparked shuttle, here for a fuel exchange." 

"Oh, really?" Miles looks up at him, then back to the shuttle. "Can we go closer? I want to see better."

"Of course we can."

Along the way Seaspray explains about the fuel, that Omega is an Aegismech, and his Distillers have made extra fuel for the shuttle. They're going to come aboard and exchange it for a box in the one part of the cargo hold that Percy had snatched him away from in a panic, gibbering about potentially lethal crystalline substances.

"The crystals aren't really that dangerous," Seaspray says as they walk, "but processing them releases huge amounts of radiation and doesn't really yield anything this ship can use. With you guys aboard, we'd have to contain you for all the time it would take, and then completely decontaminate the ship and it's just not worth it."

"Sounds like swapping is way easier," Miles agrees. They're much closer now, and Miles stares as Omega opens and releases his Distillers. 

"Oh. My. God. They're so beautiful!"

Seaspray smiles down at Miles. "Deepspace models are something else, all right."

"What do they collect?"

"Cosmic rays, gamma rays, solar radiation, quasar output… everything, really. Omega Supreme requires a lot of energy."

"What about the clear one?"

"Starshine? He's incredibly finely tuned. It's his job to find energy sources in darkest space, and to maximize output from the lightest background radiation."

"Wow. Yikes!" Miles jumps as Untold Suns moves out from behind Starshine, black plating catching enough ambient light to make his outline visible to human eyes. "What about the stealth one?"

"Untold Suns specializes in solar radiation but not in magnitude, so he can gain fuel from the faintest or the brightest stars with no trouble. The larger gold one with the big sails is Sunskin, he catches solar wind, and… there he is!" Seaspray points with one delicate digit. "See? That little one right beside him?" For just a second, Miles sees a tiny, tiny little mech shimmering in prismatic colors, and then it zips away again, hidden among the others. It's funny how 'tiny' means 'the same size as me' these days, but Miles is nothing if not adaptable. "Distillers don't usually have symbionts, but it happens sometimes. Are you aware of the effects of solar wind on the thermosphere?"

"Uh, probably not?"

"It has other names. The Northern Lights?"

"Oh! Hang on, there was something in the science book about this… like, solar wind hits the planet's magnetic field, and excited particles make the lightshow happen, right?"

"Essentially. It happens anywhere there's solar wind and a magnetic field. Aurora, the little prismatic one, dips within that magnetic field while Sunskin orbits, and takes in that resulting energy. They were created together so that Sunskin could glean more energy from the solar wind his sails don't catch."

"That is so fucking cool."

As if summoned by Miles's curiosity, Aurora comes skimming up to the window and stops, hands up to the totally not glass as he stares in at them. He has four arms like Percy but only four fingers on each hand. Miles beams, and steps forward to put his hands palm to palm with the top pair. Aurora is like Starlight, but much more obviously metallic, and full of colors. It's harder to see the stars through him. His face is as featureless as the vast silver sphere of his Aegis, but somehow seems to smile anyway.

"Wow."

"He's comming me now to ask me what you are and what you're made of. And I'm telling him, 'a human' and 'mostly water.'"

Miles giggles, and then stares as two big pink circles iris open on that smooth face, optics appearing out of nowhere to stare into Miles's eyes. A mouth appears as well and holds in an O of surprise, mirroring Miles's expression, which soon turns into a wide grin. The mech imitates that as well, looking like an emoticon with his simple smile. "Cool, he does have a face!"

"Yes, it's just generally hidden behind his component shielding the way it was when you first saw him, and like Omega Supreme's optics are right now."

"Are his pink too?"

"You know, I've never seen them so I don't know. He doesn't go into root mode much, and when he does he never retracts his mask."

"Weird." He beams out at Aurora, who beams back. "And I guess he never unshields them because you guys can read his field?"

"Exactly. Aurora can't believe you're made of water, by the way."

Miles giggles. "It kind of weirds us out, too. Can you tell him I think he's really pretty?"

"I just have. And apparently the feeling is mutual. Like so many of us, the hair fascinates him."


	3. Chapter 3

Omega's Distillers have to come aboard anyway to pass on the heavy fuels the vessel needs and to pick up the crystals that would be prohibitively expensive to process even without needing to keep the organics alive, so they all get to indulge their curiosity. The vessel's crew puts up a barrier near the decontamination center and Oceanus's cohort meets them outside it to give them and the chamber itself a thorough cleaning. It's a warmly confused mess, feathery collection fronds wrapping around sails and fins and everyone purring and trilling pleased greetings and status checks as they clean up all the residual radiation. Omega could have decontaminated them, but this way is much more fun. The organics are recharging, but apparently they flicker in and out of that state almost constantly, and will be up and about a few times before Omega's cohort leaves.

The first thing they do is send Stardust back to Omega with the crystals. They don't ask him to stay and process them when he's as curious as anyone, though, and he's back in just over the time it takes to transmit the human's tolerances to Omega and be decontaminated again as Omega cleans himself just in case one of the little organics decides to visit. All that in order, Stardust sits with Circle and rubs the plating over his straining tanks as he pumps the heaviest of these strange fuels into the proper tank. Others wander around with Oceanus's cohort and a few renew their acquaintance with the pilot, but all of them are waiting for the humans to come online.

*

Trent is as curious as the others, but he tries to be less of a golden retriever than Miles and less of a fucking pussy than Sam, who is hiding behind Miles as they stare up at the big gold one like idiots. Trent approaches more slowly, looking around. There's something kinda… feminine about these guys. Even more than the one in the Tower, they're willowy and subtly curved, and he's gotta admit it at least to himself, beautiful.

And then nearly jumps out of his skin, because he didn't know there was a little one. It comes around the big golden one and smiles at him, big pink optics curious. "Hello! Are you Trent?"

And he just stares, because it talks like a chick. It even nips in at the waist and comes out again in a perfect, generous curve. Clearly, he's losing his fuckin' mind and needs to get back to earth ASAP. Even with his fucking balls gone, there will at least be women to _look_ at. "Uh. Yeah. Why is your voice like that?"

"I find these frequencies more pleasing. I can change it, if you like."

"No! No, don't change it." He can feel himself blushing and feels like a fucking idiot. "I… I like 'em, too. Your frequencies."

Sam snickers. " _Smooth_."

"Aw, fuck you, Whitwicky."

"May we watch?" One of the big silver ones asks, and Miles practically laughs himself sick.

"I don't know, Trent, may they watch?" Sam teases, and Trent shoves him for being a dick.

"I guess, if I decide you're worth the time."

A bronze and gold frilled one laughs, crouching to get a better look at them. "We see so little organic life, and what can survive the vacuum tends to be very simple."

They ask all kinds of questions as well as permission before they touch, and goddamn that shouldn't be as strange as it is good. Given permission, Aurora runs shimmering, glassy little hands all over Trent's chest, pressing an audial to it to hear his heartbeat better, optics wide in delight.

"Two beats! Amazing."

"Glad you like it, honey."

"Honey? A fuel excreted by insects?"

Trent blushes, feeling like an idiot. "It's mostly sugar. Humans like sweet things."

"Ah. 'Sweet' means so much." Aurora smiles, sitting up again to be optic to eye with Trent.

"Yeah." He squirms, feeling a light and delicate tingling. He guesses it's her—his field, soft and like no other Trent has ever felt.

*

"You should totally go. You know Perceptor and Shockwave trust this Omega guy, and trust me, being with an aegismech is amazing."

"Shut up, Miles."

Trent can't help but want to. And not just because he's addicted to the bastards. As far as he knows, Omega's cadre doesn't know that about him. He can actually fucking consent. He kind of wants to say no just because he can, but he dreams about Aurora and wakes up knowing that he'll say yes.


	4. Chapter 4

The journey over is really weird, because they just put him back in his pod, seal it against the vacuum, and carry it over. He gets horrible vertigo looking into the yawning pit of space, but it's over soon and he is swept up into that dark hole with all of Omega's distillers. The inside of the ship reminds him of the raves he went to back before everything got fucked. There's a deep whooshing and humming that vibrates in his bones like bass used to, and it's dark with little glowy bits everywhere. The place is one giant sphere, and he realizes that there's gravity here, but when they open the pod he gets vertigo all over again to realize that it's somehow outwardly oriented, like they're walking on the inside surface of a tiny planet. Or the moon, maybe, because damn is this some light gravity. It pretty much doesn't even matter that it's uphill all ways, all of them float-walking on Omega's curved inner surface. And goddamn, there is no part of Trent that isn't tingling. His poor fucking balls are tingling, wherever they are.

"Holy shit."

"There is no organic waste present, Trent," says Sunskin, and he has to laugh.

"No, sorry, it's just something we say when we're surprised."

"Ah."

Aurora giggles, and takes Trent's hand, pointing toward Omega's center, where another sphere floats. It doesn't seem to connect to anything else, and Trent stares. "Uh… So is that him, and this is armor?"

"All of this is Omega. The spheres are connected."

"Jesus fucking Christ."

None of them ask what he means by that. Either they're learning or just hear the resemblance to 'fragging Primus.' "All of us are within his field," Untold Suns adds in his soft, staticky voice. "Omega Supreme is a being of wireless consciousness. Not all of his parts need to be connected to function."

"Oh." Sunskin scoops him up carefully, and flies to that inner sphere, which opens to them. Miles has told him about Oceanus's alvei, but it looks like Omega only has one, with a third sphere in the middle. This one floats too, and looks about big enough for the biggest distillers to fit into, if they compacted themselves the way the aliens can. "Hey, guys?" Trent asks.

"Yes?" Sunskin replies.

"How does this work? Like, if this is where he siphons your fuel, how does it leave this sphere?"

Sunskin smiles, and Starlight explains. "The connections exist when they need to, extruded and retracted as Omega sees fit."

"So he kinda siphons himself?"

"In a sense."

"Kinky," Trent says, and Aurora giggles, seeming to understand his meaning by context.

"He seems to enjoy it. What a strange and evocative way to describe it, though!"

Trent blushes a little, feeling silly and not really minding. The big gold and bronze one crouches and strokes Trent's hair with one fingertip. He doesn't even know its name, but leans into the caress. Miles would be so proud. "It seems fitting that such a strange creature has a strange way of thinking." It pauses. "Those connotations are not what I want. Perhaps 'marvelous' is better."

"I'm not offended, man." And he's not. He's too tingly to be offended right now. "What's your name?"

"The Glorious Maw of the Axial Circle."

"So Circle. Got it."

Circle laughs, and moves aside for a few of the others to pet him with gentle hands and feather-light fins and sleek, shimmering sails. He's purring like a cat by the time Sunskin speaks again.

"Omega wants to taste you, little one," Sunskin says. "Would that be all right?"

"Uh, what would that involve?"

"We would put you into the inner chamber, where Omega would create a breathable atmosphere as he explored you with sensors in his protometal. We have already transmitted all your tolerances to him, so you would be perfectly safe inside."

Trent shivers, because that does sound good, and Miles had told him how amazing it had been to be enclosed in Oceanus. He hesitates a moment longer, then removes his rebreather. His skin prickles with goosebumps and he doesn't know if it's from Omega's field, the Distillers, or just the sheer trust of handing over even his breathing to the mechs. And then Sunskin lifts him up and he is inside. Curling into a loosely fetal ball is easy and automatic as the protometal slides over him, leaving his head free as air in the outer alvei cycles to freshness. It's weirdly like being in a hot tub, and he can't help but laugh to think about what he must look like, a tiny Ken doll head on a bowling ball but the sound turns into a soft moan as the protometal encases him. Miles has tried to describe this but Jesus, he has not done it justice. It's heavy and not heavy and so smooth and so close and Trent lets out a soft, high little noise as he relaxes into it.

"Oh," Starshine says, Omega comming his impressions to all of them, "something has been removed."

The really embarrassing part about this is that Trent starts to cry. He can't help it, and can't even cover his face. Almost as soon as he thinks that, the grip of the metal starts to slacken. "We have distressed you," Aurora says, sounding miserable as she leans in to touch his face with one delicate hand.

"N-not really. I mean, it was traumatic but you didn't do it, I just… Oh fuck, this is so stupid, nevermind—"

"Trent." Aurora looks into his eyes. "Whatever it is, it is not stupid. Please stop leaking saline."

He laughs, hiccupping a little, and the metal hugs him again, leaving his arms free to reach for Aurora. "I guess I just wanted to be a complete human for you."

"Trent, modifications do not change the nature of one's spark." And that voice is so much more than he can take, soft and sweet and feminine.

"I don't have a spark," he says, suddenly bitter, "none of us do, and that's why clipping me was okay." His chest heaves with his quick breaths, but he finds himself relaxing a little as the protometal vibrates soothingly around him.

"Whatever you have is real, Trent. You are sparked as surely as we are."

That's enough to start the waterworks again, and he does his best to reassure the Distillers that he's not distressed, that he feels safe with them. As he quiets, the whole sphere around them starts to croon, soft and deep and strange. It's a soothing, somnolent sound, and Trent finds himself relaxing. Untold Suns unsubspaces a small polishing cloth, and uses it to gently dab at Trent's eyes, staring in fascination as he blows and wipes his nose.

"Sorry."

"We will keep it for analysis," Untold Suns says, and if none of them know why he's laughing, they seem glad to see it.

*

Using members of a sentient species as interface toys against their will is disgusting and wrong, but at least now Omega's cohort can understand it. If one's ethical processing were underclocked enough to enjoy hacking, anyway. Even taken from a strict Utilitarian perspective, Trent's fighting or white-knuckled endurance of the act can have nothing on a willing Trent, sucking in great gasps of pure air to force it through his vocalizer and into long, loud wails as Omega's siphon explores him. Other siphons emerge from the outer chamber walls, and everyone who still has something in his tanks hooks up. Aurora is only siphoned by Sunskin, though, his tanks too small for Omega to do it directly, and neither of them has anything left. He stays by Trent as the others hook up, studying the human's face in his pleasure and the amazing ripples and bursts of his erratic organic field.

"Aurora," Trent whimpers, arms wrapping around him. Aurora strokes the strange, beautiful gold filaments on Trent's helm.

"What do you need, Trent?" His voice is a little staticky with arousal, and something about its peculiar frequencies makes Trent whimper.

"Come closer."

Aurora can't get much closer but leans in, and then cycles his optics in surprise as the human presses his mouth to Aurora's buccal plate. It's soft and strange and then sizzling with saliva, and Aurora keens softly, amazed and charged. The human's glossa is as small and soft as the rest of him, and so flexible as it licks along Aurora's smooth plating, following the tiny differences in surface level over concealed components exactly, carrying a sharp, bright charge.

"Wh-what is this called?" Aurora asks, vocalizer stuttering with static.

"A kiss," Trent gasps, lapping at the point of Aurora's chin, "but it's different with two mouths."

Aurora can believe that, and tries to imagine it before Trent distracts him completely.


End file.
